


All for You

by Audrey_Lynne



Category: DuckTales (Cartoon 2017)
Genre: Alliances, Angst, BAMF Bentina Beakley, Backstory, Child Abandonment, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Espionage, Family, Family Feels, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Long Lost/Secret Relatives, Mystery, Parent Bentina Beakley, Pepper is a doll and I love her, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Right?, Sympathetic Phantom Blot, keep telling yourself that guys, they're definitely not becoming friends
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-11
Updated: 2021-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-17 09:34:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 20,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29348217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Audrey_Lynne/pseuds/Audrey_Lynne
Summary: She was a strange little duck, but she had becomehisstrange little duck.When Pepper opens up to him and reveals that she's always wondered about her origins, Phantom Blot takes it upon himself to look into her past.  But when every answer poses more questions, he has to reach out to one of S.H.U.S.H.'s most infamous agents.  Beakley isn't thrilled about it, but when Blot also has something she needs, they might just form an unlikely alliance.
Relationships: Bentina Beakley & Scrooge McDuck, Bentina Beakley & Webby Vanderquack, Pepper (Disney: DuckTales) & Phantom Blot (Disney)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 45





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'd like to file a police report; Pepper stole my heart. 
> 
> I've been posting bits and pieces of this story on my tumblr (hearmeouteliza) and it's time to get it posted properly. Many thanks to my followers there who have provided such encouragement! I definitely haven't forgotten everything else I have out there, but February 22 is sneaking up on us...who knows what other ideas might spin out of control then? Hopefully life will settle soon and I'll have more time to work on everything!

* * *

Though he’d worked his way into the upper echelon of the organization, Phantom Blot had no real love for F.O.W.L. They were a means to an end; they gave him the most accurate intelligence regarding significant sources of magic and the resources to track them down. Plus, they weren’t fond of Magica DeSpell either, so they wouldn’t stop him from eliminating the threat she posed once he had the chance. His working for the organization was an arrangement of mutual benefit and nothing more. Frankly, after he captured Magica and destroyed all magic to avenge his village – and, more importantly, his family – he didn’t care what F.O.W.L. did or didn’t do.

Over the years, however, Blot had learned a number of the agency’s secrets. The Eggheads, F.O.W.L.’s grunts and resident fashion disasters, had mostly been the products of one of F.O.W.L.’s earlier projects. They had taken in a number of orphaned and abandoned children, raising them to become loyal to the organization and join its workforce. Whether it was truly rescuing them was debatable; many of them might have been adopted by actual families had they not been claimed by F.O.W.L. And the ethics of raising a child for the express purpose of filling a job were questionable. But, on the other hand, though they had been raised in a very institutional environment, the children had never been abused and the Egghead’s wages were reasonably competitive when compared to similar positions in the outside world. Blot had decided he had no real opinion on the program one way or another. Was it ideal? No. But the children had been safe and secure, something their so-called families certainly hadn’t worried about when abandoning them. The orphans were a different situation, and he felt for them, but they hadn’t had any family step up to claim them either. As someone whose own children had been stolen from him, their lives snuffed out before he could stop it, he had absolutely no tolerance for anyone who would abandon a child to the whims of an often-cruel world.

Something else he’d learned and didn’t particularly care about was that ducks and other species with a predisposition to imprint upon their initial caregivers had something known as an “imprint memory.” It was a vague memory of their early moments after hatching, involving the caregiver they’d imprinted upon. There were rarely specifics, just general feelings and a sense of what had been going on around them at the time. If the initial bond with their caregiver was broken, another could be formed with a different caregiver, provided the child was given the time and support needed to do so. Those who suffered from what psychologists termed “fractured imprinting” that had never built a subsequent bond in their formative years tended to have significant adjustment and mental health issues in adulthood. That certainly explained why majority of the Eggheads were so…well, cracked, as the slang went. They would have probably had those issues anywhere else, especially if they hadn’t been lucky enough to be adopted, but while their physical needs had been met, they hadn’t been particularly coddled.

All of that had been in a mental file Blot had labeled “Not My Problem” previously; it was a broad category that encompassed most things that had little to do with his primary mission. However, one particular Egghead had wormed her way into his life with her boundless enthusiasm. She also happened to be a “graduate” of the program. Despite himself, Blot had become fond of Pepper, even beginning to consider her a friend. He certainly hadn’t had many of those since his village had been destroyed so long ago. He had insisted to F.O.W.L. she become his permanent mission partner, something Bradford Buzzard had immediately agreed to since there was literally no one else volunteering. (Why did that bother him? He’d never cared who liked him or not before.) And now, between tasks, they’d begun to talk about topics that had previously been off-limits, such as his family. Pepper’s eyes were wide and sympathetic as he told her of the joy they’d brought him, his beloved wife and their two little girls.

“They sound pretty great,” she said quietly.

“They were,” Blot agreed. He watched, mildly amused as she toyed with her blonde curls that refused to be contained once she took her helmet off. With a name (or was it a nickname?) like Pepper, he’d expected her hair to be red the first time he saw it, but that only went to show how far assumptions got anyone. It occurred to him he knew little about Pepper, other than that she’d been one of F.O.W.L.’s foundlings. Before she’d snuck her way into his heart, he wouldn’t have cared. “Do you know anything about your life before you came here?” He wasn’t sure how else to pose the question. The odds were that her story wasn’t a happy one and he didn’t want to push her to share it if she wasn’t ready. However, given the way she opened up to him like a flower at the least little bit of affection (or even attention), he suspected she’d tell him.

Pepper shrugged. “F.O.W.L.’s the only family I’ve ever known…you know, like most of us. I guess there _are_ a few Eggheads who answered a want ad – bet they had no idea what _they_ were signing up for – but the rest of us were rescued.”

“I don’t know that my opinion will count for much,” Blot told her, “but I find it despicable that anyone would abandon their own offspring.” He was still trying to figure out this whole “friendship” thing, but sympathizing with her situation was a start.

Pepper grinned. “Oh, it does count. And thank you. It’s…well, it does help, at least a little.” She sighed, her gaze trailing off to gaze at nothing in particular. “It’s just…”

Blot frowned, even if Pepper might not have been able to see it beneath his cloak. One thing Pepper had never been was at a loss for words, so whatever she had on her mind had to be significant. “It’s just what?”

“Well, we’ve talked about our imprint memories before, me and the others.” Pepper twisted her fingers together as she talked. “Most of the others, they’re what I’d guess you’d expect – lonely, sometimes cold…just sad, really sad. And I feel a little bad that mine…isn’t?”

“You shouldn’t feel bad for that,” Blot insisted, but he wasn’t surprised that she did. She was the most empathetic of all the Eggheads he’d spent any significant amount of time around; perhaps that had to do with the fact that she might not have had as rough a start as her peers. Had she been one of the orphans? “Did you want to…talk about it?”

Pepper nodded enthusiastically. “It’s really…nice, actually. I remember a woman – she must have been my mother – holding me and singing to me. Just…safe and warm.” Her smile quickly morphed into a frown, however, the rest of her face falling with it. Blot had never seen her look so dejected and he found he hated it. “I don’t know why she left me. They said they found me in a box, just a few days old. Was I a difficult baby? Did something happen where she couldn’t take care of me? Or was she even my mother?”

“I’m sure it had nothing to do with you.” That, Blot could promise her, even if he had no information to answer her other questions. “You were an infant. There was nothing you could have done to deserve being abandoned like that.”

Slowly, Pepper’s smile returned, tentative though it may have been. “Thanks. That’s…really nice of you to say.” She shrugged, her expression a little sheepish. “Sometimes when I got lonely, when I was little, I used to pretend she realized she made a huge mistake and was looking for me. Or…I was really a princess of some country somewhere and she had to hide me away to protect me from an evil sorceress.”

Given that Blot had dealt with more than one evil sorceress in his time and was currently in pursuit of the most menacing one of all, he couldn’t exactly call her fantasies ridiculous. “Perhaps she did. Or…perhaps you’re an orphan after all and she never meant to leave you behind.” It was still an unhappy ending, true, but maybe it would sting less for Pepper to consider.

“Yeah, maybe!” Pepper perked up. “You know, you try to be all tough and intimidating, but I think you’re a real softie underneath it all.”

Blot glared at her, but it lacked the heat he usually summoned for those who had irritated him. “I am not.”

“I think you are,” Pepper teased, her voice becoming more singsong.

“Am not,” Blot insisted. Childish as it may have been, she had goaded him into playing along. He couldn’t help but be reminded of similar arguments his girls had…and the memory was a balm instead of a dagger to his heart. This ridiculous little duck just seemed to bring out that sort of thing in him. Privately, he resolved to do some additional research into Pepper’s origins. Surely there would be files that could help him put together the pieces and give her some answers. 

It was nice to have someone to care about again.

* * *

Something didn’t add up, and Blot didn’t like it when things failed to add up.

The intake files for the children in the Egghead Program were hardly restricted; anyone with the appropriate level of access could view them. Pepper’s had been sparse, stating that two F.O.W.L. agents had been crossing through an alley near the Moscow base on their lunch break and heard one of the boxes wailing. According to both that official account and what she’d been told, it had only been three or four days after she’d hatched. From what Blot had gathered, it unfortunately was all too common for infants to be found abandoned in that era; there were baby houses full of them. She had been “remarkably” well cared-for, according to F.O.W.L.’s orphanage director, which fit with Pepper’s memory of her mother. Also significant was the fact that she probably hadn’t been out there long, given that she was mostly unaffected by the winter weather. Yet there was absolutely no trace of whoever had abandoned her, no trail for them to follow – not that F.O.W.L. was really in the business of reuniting families. The agents who found her probably hadn’t even looked.

If it hadn’t been for Pepper’s memories of having been so lovingly cared for, Blot might have been content to leave it at that. Something had happened between those early moments and the time she’d been bundled up and left behind. But when he looked at other files to compare, there seemed to have been at least some half-hearted attempt to find their family of origin, if only to avoid charges of kidnapping. (Most F.O.W.L. operatives did, at least, try to avoid crimes involving children. It was one of their few almost-redeeming qualities, in Blot’s opinion.) There was no mention of any search for Pepper’s family. Was it possible that one of the agents who “found” her was her mother? Or that Pepper had been strategically left there for them to find?

While Blot had no particular evidence to support the theory, it would have filled in a lot of the knowledge gaps. If she’d been the child of a F.O.W.L. agent who couldn’t raise her for whatever reason, then Pepper having been left to be found and presumably enrolled into the Egghead Program might have been a compromise. Her mother would have been able to keep an eye on her from afar – and, if the agents who found her had been tipped off, maybe they felt it wouldn’t have been prudent to prod into the infant’s origins.

On a whim, Blot set up the computer to search F.O.W.L.’s records for any mention of the Moscow base both a week before and after Pepper’s assumed date of birth. While he waited, he reviewed her file again, searching for anything he’d missed. Like most of her peers, Pepper had been named by her caretakers, though there was no indication of what led them to choose that for a Russian child found in early December. Perhaps they’d just liked the name. (Blot would have been inclined to go with Anastasia, given the circumstances, but not everyone at F.O.W.L. was a fan of history’s legends. He hadn’t always been, himself, until he’d come to realize the truth to the claim that those who do not study history are doomed to repeat it.) When the computer chirped at him, announcing its results, Blot skimmed through it, frowning. Something _definitely_ didn’t add up and some familiar players had entered the scene, only deepening the mystery.

He had some more research to do.

* * *

Several hours later, Blot hadn’t been able to piece together as much of the situation as he’d liked. He still hadn’t told Pepper about his little side project because he didn’t want to get her hopes up - and, also, he wasn’t sure _what_ to tell her just yet. Too many questions had arisen. By itself, Pepper’s story would have been unremarkable, similar to the background of many of her fellow Eggheads…most of whom hadn’t even been afforded a box and blanket. But in reviewing his findings, it occurred to Blot that a seemingly unrelated event might _not_ be.

Around the time of Pepper’s birth, Black Heron had recorded a series of video messages intended to taunt her primary nemesis - S.H.U.S.H.’s Agent 22 - into coming after her. That wasn’t surprising; she hated to be ignored and she tended to get bored waiting for her latest plans to be foiled. A few days later, Agent 22 had been found half-dead on the doorstep of a S.H.U.S.H. safehouse outside Moscow and Heron’s notes on the matter indicated she, for once, hadn’t been responsible. (Frankly, Heron seemed miffed about her lack of involvement.)

There was nothing, other than their proximity, that suggested the two events were related. In fact, Blot would have dismissed the thought entirely, if he hadn’t recalled Pepper’s brief encounter with Webbigail Vanderquack during their mission at Castle McDuck. They’d so cheerfully introduced themselves before returning to the fight…and the more he compared pictures, he thought he could see a vague resemblance. Frankly, he might have been reaching; any two ducks of the same breed could have had some similar facial features. And Webbigail’s grandmother, the infamous Agent 22, only had one child of record - Webbigail’s mother, a S.H.U.S.H. agent who had been killed in the line of duty. 

The thought was easy to dismiss until it wasn’t. Blot had quickly done some additional research; if he could establish where Bentina Beakley had been _before_ whatever misfortune had befallen her in Russia, Blot could convince himself he was slipping and making sloppy connections in his eagerness to help Pepper. But then he _couldn’t_. Several months before, Beakley had been living in Paris as Radka Issová, a Czech novelist who was researching the French Revolution. She had then disappeared for several months - and, other than Black Heron, no one at F.O.W.L. had seemed to be particularly concerned about it. They hadn’t claimed responsibility, but they also hadn’t been interested in the fact that one of their biggest threats had dropped off the radar entirely. They might not have always hired the best and brightest, but they weren’t that inept. Except…if F.O.W.L. _was_ involved, why didn’t Heron know? Every answer Blot found led to more questions, and that was how he’d found himself inviting Beakley to meet him directly. He needed her side of this story.


	2. Chapter 2

* * *

It was probably a mistake, inviting her to meet him like this, because he knew she could snap his neck in an instant if she chose not to take the time to hear him out. F.O.W.L. certainly considered her one of her their top threats, but as most of their goals weren’t relevant to his interests, Blot had decided that didn’t concern him. She’d fought against Magica; he could justify this as a case of “the enemy of my enemy is my friend.” Though perhaps “friend” was too strong a word. Ally? At the very least, he hoped to talk her into a temporary and very specific truce. She could do what she liked to any of the others, as long as he got the information he needed from her first.

“I know you’re lurking there,” Beakley called out. “Considering that _you_ asked _me_ to come, I don’t see the point.”

Blot chuckled darkly. “I was hoping to get some reassurance you wouldn’t attack me on sight.”

“Give me a good reason not to.”

Blot stepped out of the shadows the alley had afforded him, assessing her in person for the first time. “We’re not so different, you and I.”

Beakley crossed her arms over her chest. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”

“We both hate Magica DeSpell, for one,” Blot pointed out, shrugging. “I allow my cloak to hide my true nature; you let your domesticity hide yours.” And, now, the moment in which he risked setting her off entirely or winning her over. “And we’ve both lost our families to enemies we couldn’t control.”

Beakley covered her reaction quickly; a slight wince was Blot’s only indication he’d hit a nerve. She stared him down, proud and defiant, no doubt preparing to remind him of his association with the same agency that was responsible for her losses.

Blot beat her to it. “Oh, we both know who I work with. But you also know I was not involved with those incidents. And wouldn’t you consider making a deal with the devil if it would allow you to avenge those you loved?”

She narrowed her eyes at him, but he could tell he was getting through. “What’s your angle?”

Blot found he liked Beakley more than he thought he would. She was suspicious, naturally, but she clearly wasn’t ready to dismiss him out of hand. She gave little away, even with her expressions exposed for all to see. He’d become accustomed to the protection his cloak afforded him and he didn’t know that he would be so openly reserved anymore. “I promised you information. But, as they say, you have to get some to get some. I have some questions for you.”

“About what?” 

He could tell that he had her attention, if nothing else. She was curious and he could work with that to gain her cooperation. “You may have heard I recently gained a partner. She knows very little about her past and I was hoping to be able to give her some answers.”

Beakley frowned. “Yes, I’ve heard about her, but I’m not sure what I could tell you about her history. One of the Egghead Program’s graduates, I assume?”

Blot hadn’t counted on her knowing that – though it shouldn’t have been surprising that she did – but he could adapt to it. “So you’re familiar with the program.”

Beakley smirked at him. “Don’t tell me that was the information you were planning to bargain with.”

Oh, she _was_ good. “I’m sure I can think of something else, if it comes to that.”

“Good strategy, though,” she observed, clearly enjoying having the upper hand. “Give away some information that my lot might find disturbing, but it doesn’t do your organization much damage…”

“I’m glad you like the way I think,” Blot said dryly. “Now, about my partner. Are you willing to help or not?”

“Possibly,” she allowed, “but S.H.U.S.H. never kept track of the Egghead Program once we determined that the children weren’t actively being harmed. I’m really not sure what I could tell you.”

“She was born in December of 1991,” Blot said, watching carefully for her reaction when he mentioned the date. She frowned, but not enough to indicate any connection. “In Moscow, I believe, or at least nearby.” There it was. She opened her beak slightly, then closed it, so subtly that he’d have missed it if he hadn’t been paying attention.

“So were a hundred thousand children, I assume.” Beakley’s voice was controlled, but with the way her eyes were laser-focused on him, Blot knew she must have realized what he was getting at.

“Yes, but to be honest, I don’t particularly care about them.” Blot shrugged. If he played it casual, he’d have her, but it would take much longer. She was invested, though, so he took a risk. “Tell me…how was Paris, Ms. Issová?”

Beakley’s gaze hardened and a lesser man would have folded under it. “How do you know that name? And if you intend to keep my cooperation, you’ll tell me everything you know about what happened in Moscow that December right now.”

Blot glanced around. No one was near enough to be paying any attention to them, but he still felt it prudent to double check. “Very little, actually. I was hoping you could fill in some of the blanks. I know that Pepper – my partner – was found in a box near F.O.W.L.’s Moscow base. I also know that you were found by your people around that same time after having been missing for several months. I have no idea if those events are actually connected, but I was hoping you could help me find out.” His cards were all on the table now, and he spread his hands in front of himself. “I give you my word, that’s all the information I have.”

Was that disappointment that flickered across her expression? She hid it quickly, and he couldn’t be sure. She was tense, angry…perhaps a little sad, underneath it all, and whatever story she had to tell wouldn’t be pleasant. “In that case, I’m not the right person to help you. I left Paris for a rendezvous with one of our counter-intelligence agents in Odesa. It was a set-up and I was attacked. I don’t remember anything after that until I woke up in the medical ward.”

That definitely complicated Blot’s plan. He bit his lower lip, analyzing her. Without being in physical contact, he couldn’t be one hundred percent sure, but he was convinced she was telling the truth. She had every reason to lie to him, of course, and that left the tiniest fraction of doubt, but though she continued to project a cool demeanor, he’d noticed the little tells that revealed how shaken she was. “I see.” He considered his options. He could walk away, drop it there, and find the answers another way – he always got what he was after, eventually. But Beakley could be a powerful ally if he needed it down the line. “I may be able to help uncover those memories. I know some techniques, if you’re willing to consider it.”

Suspicion flared in her eyes, though he’d expected that. “And why would you do that? Are you really so sure that’ll tell you anything about your partner?”

“Perhaps.” Blot shrugged. “Perhaps not. You’re a mother; I’m sure if you’d encountered a helpless newborn – or egg, even – you’d have taken notice. Clearly, you were in no shape at the time of your rescue to care for anyone, but…I feel it’s possible you might have at least attempted to intervene on her behalf. And if not – if it is just a coincidence – then, won’t we both have the peace of mind of knowing?” He wasn’t going to feign total benevolence; there was definitely something in this for both of them.

Beakley nodded, slowly. “Give me some time to think it over. I’ll contact you.”

“I’ll be waiting,” Blot promised. He was willing to bet he’d hear from her by the end of the day.

* * *

Her meeting with Phantom Blot had stayed with her in a way Beakley hadn’t expected it to. She’d agreed to meet him because he claimed he had information regarding F.O.W.L. she’d find useful. In the end, it was nothing she didn’t already know. The Egghead Program was strange and disconcerting, to be sure - but once they’d ascertained that the children involved were actually being cared for, it hadn’t been something S.H.U.S.H. felt the need to interfere with. They had to pick their battles.

Blot’s interest in his partner’s origins intrigued Beakley, however. Webby had mentioned meeting Pepper, briefly, and it had been interesting to note that the lone wolf had finally taken on a partner, especially one so unlike himself. Now, to find out he was growing fond of her, enough so to uncover the mystery of her past… If he’d developed an emotional soft spot, that information alone could become useful. 

But then he’d started poking around in Beakley’s past, wanting to know if there was any connection between her time in Moscow and that having been Pepper’s apparent birthplace, around the same time. He’d backed off upon realizing she didn’t remember what happened between being cornered in Odesa and coming around in S.H.U.S.H.’s Moscow medical ward, but he seemed to think there was some connection. And that bothered her, deeply. Not only because she didn’t remember what happened on that disastrous failed mission - that had _always_ bothered her - but that he thought she might somehow know where the baby F.O.W.L. found came from. If she had encountered the child at some point, surely she wouldn’t have left her to fall into F.O.W.L.’s hands…right? He’d implied that he believed she would have tried to help, but failure was not something she was willing to accept when a child’s fate was involved. And what memory techniques had he been talking about? In the end, Blot had been right; if nothing else, it would give them both some solace in knowing. She had to take that leap of faith.

When she told Scrooge of her next intended meeting with Blot, he was understandably dubious. “You don’t actually trust him, do you?”

Beakley scoffed. “Of course not.” She couldn’t help but be amused by the thought. “It’d be a funny world, wouldn’t it, if we went around trusting F.O.W.L.’s operatives?” Despite the fact that he didn’t have a strong sense of loyalty to the organization, Blot still worked with them and that was cause enough for concern. “But he seems quite sure I know something about his partner’s family, or at least where she came from.” She sighed, her gaze falling to the floor. “And he knows about Moscow.”

“Oh.” Scrooge’s voice was quiet and reserved, and she knew he understood. She’d always made it clear that subject was off-limits; she’d been pushed enough on it during the debriefing process. He _knew_ how distressing she found it that she didn’t even know the extent of what she’d been through, that letting her mind try to fill in the blanks was worse than anything that she possibly could have endured. (And, in the end, absolutely nothing she’d survived, no matter how traumatic, had been worse than losing Eliza. If she got a little neurotic about protecting Webby, it was only because she couldn’t endure losing her too.)

“Yes.” Beakley didn’t like the sympathy she saw in Scrooge’s expression, so she glanced away. “I don’t know how much he’s aware of. But I do intend to find out. And if it helps his quest…so be it. I hardly see the danger in giving one of the Eggheads a little peace of mind, given their rough start in life. Especially that one. Webby said she wasn’t like the others.”

Scrooge nodded, stroking his chin thoughtfully. “As I recall, she wasn’t. Perhaps that’s why he’s taken a liking to her.”

“Perhaps,” Beakley murmured. If Scrooge said anything else, she missed it; her mind was miles away. Six thousand miles away, to be exact…outside a bookshop in Odesa.

* * *

To say Scrooge was concerned would have been something of an understatement. He was willing to allow the Phantom Blot into the mansion, given the circumstances – though they’d of course be taking all the appropriate precautions. But he hadn’t seen Beakley this off-balance in a long time. It was understandable, but he was worried about her…and he hoped recovering her memories of what happened would heal more than it would hurt.

It was supposed to be a routine mission, intelligence gathering at most. Beakley had dropped her daughter off at the mansion, kissing her goodbye and promising to be home in a few days. And then she’d just…disappeared. The brooch that contained her tracking device had been found in a jewelry shop near her last known location, the pin broken off the back. It had been a rough time for everyone, though Scrooge had refused to accept that she was dead; he wouldn’t believe that until he saw a body. And that stubborn hope had paid off, in the end.

_Scrooge couldn’t help but draw in a sharp breath when Duckworth brought him the cordless phone, calmly stating, “Director VonDrake for you, sir.” This could be the call he’d been waiting for or the one he’d been dreading._

_Fortunately, Ludwig wasted no time in getting to the point once Scrooge answered. His usual ramblings about whatever idea had caught his fancy today were gone, and that alone spoke to the gravity of the situation. “We found her.”_

_Scrooge let out the breath he’d been all too aware he was holding, and it felt as if much of the tension of the past seven months went with it. If it had been nearly anyone else, Scrooge would have assumed they wanted to disappear, but when S.H.U.S.H.’s accountant had suggested the same, Scrooge had almost decked him. He knew Beakley and that wasn’t her style. If he ever doubted it, all he had to do was look into the wide, worried eyes of the little girl she’d left behind and his conviction deepened. “Where? How is she?”_

_“Moscow,” Ludwig said, “and they’ve taken her to the medical wing. That’s all I know. They said she was in rough shape, but…you know, that’s relative.”_

_Scrooge snorted. “Especially where she’s concerned.” He and Beakley probably should have been dead several times over, given the scrapes they’d gotten into over the years, but somehow, they always managed to bounce back. “I’m going to call for a pilot as soon as I hang up. Do you need me to pick you up in Vienna?”_

_“No, no, I’m leaving in a moment myself,” Ludwig replied. “I should beat you there.”_

_“I’ll see you soon, then.” Without wasting time on further niceties, Scrooge hung up and began making arrangements for his immediate departure. He’d had a duffel bag in his study, packed and waiting for this moment. Scrooge hurried to grab it…and found it was heavier than he recalled. He frowned, setting it down and opening the bag to reveal a brown-haired duckling nestled among his coats. “Hello, Eliza.”_

_The girl frowned but did crawl out of the bag. “If you found my mom, I’m going, too!”_

_Scrooge sighed. It was a safe house, not a rescue mission. And, as for much of a curmudgeon as he could be, he’d seen how hard the last several months had been on Eliza. She’d already lost her father, and while she tried to keep a brave face while her mother was missing in action, she was still nine years old and dealing with adult-sized issues. None of his arguments felt like they had any more weight. “All right, then. Let’s go.”_

* * *

In the decades he’d spent alone, Blot had a fair bit of time on his hands to ponder philosophical questions. Not things like “the meaning of life” – personally, he didn’t think there was supposed to be any one answer to that question. The things he thought about were more complex, like if one’s inborn metaphysical abilities could be considered a form of magic - and if so, was using them hypocritical if one’s goal in life was to rid the world of magic? Technically, he supposed Magica and her ilk had been born with their abilities, too…but it was hardly ingrained into their DNA, the way his peoples’ were. (The shadow child might have been an exception; he frankly hadn’t figured her out yet.)

Either way, it wasn’t as if Blot had used his abilities in some time. Consent was key for touch empaths, and he hadn’t been close enough to anyone to want to ask permission. But he’d made the offer and she’d accepted. Even if he didn’t find the answers he was looking for, it might unlock something else, something important. He crossed his arms over his chest. “You’re sure you don’t remember anything? Seven months of your life missing, and you’ve been all right with that?”

Beakley mirrored his pose, glaring at him. “I wouldn’t say ‘all right’ is the proper term to use. It is what it is.”

Traumatic amnesia, the records had said, but Blot didn’t buy that, and he suspected Beakley didn’t either. He suspected that, like him, she remembered the key traumas in her life all too clearly. “I believe you may have been drugged.” She said nothing, waiting him out, but her expression suggested she thought so as well. “If that’s the case, you may still have some of those memories; they’re just inaccessible…without help.”

“Exactly what kind of ‘help’ are you offering?” she asked archly. 

Blot would have been surprised if she _hadn’t_ been mistrustful, and he was willing to work with that. Their truce was a tenuous one, after all. “All of my people were touch empaths. Some of us were found to be especially skilled and trained with the high priests, in order to be able to see memories. We only ever used the ability with permission and only for good - such as in your case, to unlock something the conscious mind couldn’t remember. I realize you don’t trust me, but I can promise that if you let me try, I won’t harm you.”

“Making a deal with the devil, hmm?” she murmured, echoing his earlier words.

Blot shrugged. “In a sense, I suppose it is. Whatever you need to tell yourself.” He didn’t need to warn her that the memories probably wouldn’t be pleasant, but he trusted she was strong enough to handle it. Besides, imagination could often be worse than reality when it came to filling in traumatic blanks. 

“Fine.” Beakley nodded. Her voice was curt, but her expression had softened slightly. “I still doubt that mission has any connection to this quest of yours…but do what you need to do.” 

Blot nodded for her to sit as he removed the glove of his right hand; physical contact would be necessary. He put his hand to her temple, closing his eyes as he sought out what he was looking for. And there it was, hidden away in the recesses, buried under layers of neural misdirection. He was assaulted by a series of images, but he pushed them aside with practiced ease and withdrew.

Beakley gasped, her hands going to her head. As she did, her granddaughter – who had been watching from the doorway – launched herself at Blot. “Leave my granny alone!”

Blot caught her with his gloved hand, holding her up by the back of her vest. The girl’s limbs flailed at him, and he couldn’t help but chuckle at her. So spirited, much like his Brigita. “I haven’t hurt her. It can take the mind a moment to adjust once the memories are released.”

Beakley was already sitting up again, smiling shakily as she reached for her granddaughter. “It’s fine, Webby. He’s right; it’s just a lot to process all at once.”

“Yes,” Blot said, standing as he pulled his glove back on. “You should take tonight to work on that.” Despite his skills, he hadn’t exactly been a therapist and he’d never claimed to be. “I’ll meet you this time tomorrow to see if you’ve recalled anything helpful.”

“Helpful to which of us?” she asked dryly.

Blot shrugged as he turned for the door. “That remains to be seen.”

* * *


	3. Chapter 3

* * *

Beakley had expected it wouldn’t be a simple matter to process seven months’ worth of memories becoming accessible at once, even if they’d been pleasant. She was still working on it as she prepared for bed, though she wasn’t sure how well she’d sleep. Perhaps it was her mind protecting itself, letting her process everything in manageable pieces, but she still couldn’t recall everything. It wasn’t a blank, like it had been before, just…fuzzy and slightly out of reach.

She found herself humming a tune as she let her hair down, brushing it out as she did each night. It was nothing familiar, but it felt like it should be. She frowned, trying to place it, but came up with nothing. Maybe it would come to her in time; her head was already spinning with everything else she was dealing with. And with as jumbled as her thoughts were, who knew? It might have only been one of the many tunes she’d made up for impromptu lullabies for Eliza or Webby. Beakley had never been a fan of many of the conventional ones. Cradles falling from treetops seemed more like the stuff of nightmares.

At least she knew now how she’d come to be in the state S.H.U.S.H. found her in when she was finally rescued. She’d been held by F.O.W.L., drugged regularly, and much of that time was still a blur. The opportunity for escape had presented itself, but she’d been slowed down by previous injuries, the sedatives in her system, and something else that felt important but wouldn’t come to her. 

_“You must be slipping; I can’t believe you thought you’d get away that easily.” Alain Durand smirked at her, his expression cruel as ever. He was as cold and calculating as he’d been when he cornered her in Odesa. Beakley had cared for him once, before she knew who he really was, but now she despised him with a burning passion._

_“Oh, I expected you’d try to stop me.” Her entire body ached, but determination fueled her. “The key word being ‘try.’”_

_Alain made a noise that was somewhere between a sigh and a growl. “You’re quickly outliving your usefulness to me. The only reason I’ve kept you alive thus far is—”_

_Beakley had never had time for villain speeches, particularly after decades of dealing with Black Heron. At least hers were vaguely amusing. “I know why. It’s too bad I don’t have a reason to extend the same courtesy to you.” She jumped forward, tackling him to the floor. She didn’t have a weapon on her – yet – but she trusted her hand-to-hand combat skills would be sufficient._

_Even pinned between her and the floor, Alain hadn’t lost his arrogance. He laughed as he looked up at her, reaching for his knife – which she quickly took. “And to think I used to find this sort of thing sexy.”_

_One thing she’d failed to calculate was how her injuries would limit her ability to get up once she’d disarmed him, but Beakley wasn’t about to let a thing like that stop her. Pain and dizziness were only annoyances. “Yes, how unfortunate for you,” she said darkly, playing along to gain a moment more to distract him. He grabbed for his knife, but she was back on her feet before he could reclaim it._

_“Even if you leave here, it won’t be with the child,” he warned, advancing on her._

_Beakley backed away from him but didn’t break eye contact. “Maura’s no longer your concern. I’d rather die than let F.O.W.L. have her.”_

_“Have it your way.” Alain grabbed a tool from the nearby desk, raising it as a makeshift weapon._

The fight had been responsible for most of her injuries, the majority of which had probably come from her being thrown off-balance and through the plate glass window that had been behind her. What happened next still wasn’t clear…an auto-injector slammed into her arm, struggling with Alain, and ultimately killing him with his own knife. Beakley was relieved that his death had certainly been self-defense, though a dark part of her acknowledged that, in his case, she wouldn’t have been deeply bothered if it hadn’t been. 

They’d been lovers once. Her husband, Phillip, had been the great love of her life and she doubted she’d remarry, but she hadn’t shut herself off to the idea of exploring love again, once she was ready. There had been a few flirtations here and there, but she’d been occupied with work and raising Eliza, so nothing had gotten serious until she’d met Lucien Renaud in Paris. Her undercover life as a novelist left her more time for leisure and she’d had four years since Phillip’s murder for her heart to heal a bit. Their relationship had become serious enough that she had even begun to consider revealing her true identity to him…but even if she’d decided to, she needn’t have bothered. He’d been living under an alias as well, only his was on F.O.W.L.’s behalf. They’d discovered S.H.U.S.H.’s double agent in the Ukraine; her body had been found a couple of days after Beakley went missing. It was “Lucien” – Alain – that met her instead of her informant. Had her anger and betrayal let him get the better of her in that fight? She’d been asking herself that for years; it had previously been the last thing she _did_ remember.

What about the child he’d mentioned? Maura? It was just out of her reach when she tried to recall more. Had that been Pepper or another child entirely? It wasn’t the first time Beakley had heard the name. She’d apparently murmured it before regaining consciousness; when Ludwig had asked her who Maura was, she’d had no idea. Now…she still wasn’t sure. Had she found Maura in the facility? Clearly, she’d been trying to get the child out of F.O.W.L.’s reach and realizing she must have failed hurt more than the memories of actual torture. And why couldn’t she remember who, exactly, Maura was? Were those memories – and all the others that eluded her – truly lost?

Sighing, Beakley slipped the secure communication device Blot had given her out of the vanity’s drawer. It was late, but she suspected he’d be awake. Did he even sleep? He must have; he wasn’t a supernatural being, as far as she could tell. Still, she had no idea what species he actually was. _Some of the memories have returned, but there are still a lot of gaps._

His reply came quickly. _That’s to be expected. We used to call that the villowi bread effect. I believe your closest equivalent would be Swiss cheese?_

Even through text, she could imagine him chuckling. It was somewhat reassuring that this was a normal part of the process, but Beakley couldn’t help her impatience. _How long will it last?_

_That depends on your mind. I suspect it’ll be faster for someone with your level of resilience._

It wasn’t the precise answer she wanted, but it was better than nothing. Beakley sighed. _I’ll see you tomorrow, then._

* * *

  
“Whatcha doin’?” Pepper bounded over to Blot as he slipped the communication device back into his robe after his conversation with Beakley. Despite the late hour, she was as enthusiastic as ever. She’d always been like this; it had only been as of late that he’d begun to find it charming.

“Checking in with one of my contacts.” It wasn’t a lie, though Blot wasn’t ready to tell Pepper about his quest yet. He didn’t want to set her up for disappointment if he ultimately encountered a dead end. Blot was used to being let down by the world; he might have been an optimist once, but those days were long gone. Pepper, on the other hand, was an optimist who didn’t seem to experience any emotion in half-measures, and he wouldn’t be responsible for upsetting her if he could help it.

“Oh, cool.” Pepper settled down into her usual spot beside him. “Anything interesting?”

“I’m not sure yet.” It wasn’t as if he had much to go on yet. What he had was half a theory that might or might not pan out. “I’ll let you know if anything comes of it.”

“All righty then.” She looked up at him. “Is there anything else I can help you with?”

“Not right now.” There was always something going on, somewhere, on the magic front, but nothing critical at the moment. Blot glanced at the clock. “Shouldn’t you be getting some sleep?” Not that he was one to talk about that…

“Yeah, probably,” she admitted, then grinned at him. “Shouldn’t you?”

_Touché_ , he thought, chuckling quietly. “Perhaps I will.” 

* * *

  
Scrooge had been trying to give Beakley her space, trusting that she’d come to him if she wanted to talk…but he also worried that she might _need_ to talk and insist on being stubborn about it. Once they’d become friends as well as partners, they had always respected the boundaries that had been put into place about their respective vulnerabilities – but, also, they’d opened up to each other about things they didn’t share with anyone else.

If his morning tea had been late, Scrooge wouldn’t have been surprised – and, unlike on other occasions, he would have never mentioned it. It would, of course, have been required most other times. He liked his schedule, yes, but he also greatly enjoyed poking at his best friend just enough to make her temper flare (but not so much that he crossed the line into risking bodily harm). But she was as prompt as ever and that wasn’t necessarily a sign that she was handling things well; it might have been a coping mechanism. She’d also shown up on time the morning after Eliza had been killed, her eyes red from crying, but clinging to her routine.

“Come in.” Their early-morning interactions were usually simple, a greeting and perhaps light conversation before she headed downstairs to get breakfast ready and he reviewed his plans for the day. “Hello. How’d you sleep?” It was a simple matter to disguise his concern with small talk.

“Like a baby,” Beakley replied, laying on the sarcasm. She followed it up with a smirk as she set the tray down; she was on to him, but she was open to some level of follow-up. The interaction might have seemed unremarkable to anyone else, but after decades of friendship, those subtle cues were all they needed.

Scrooge snorted. “So…restlessly and waking every few hours?”

“Something like that,” Beakley said dryly, though it did get a smile out of her. Her expression shifted, however, and she sat down in the armchair across from him. She had an open invitation to stay for a bit and share Scrooge’s company any morning she liked, but she rarely did so. “Actually…I wanted to ask you something.”

“Of course.” Scrooge leaned forward slightly, setting aside his newspaper to focus on her.

“Does the name Maura mean anything to you?”

Scrooge frowned, thinking about it, but he couldn’t come up any immediate associations. “Saint Maura of Ireland, maybe? There’s a rumor she and her sister were actually Scottish princesses…”

Beakley shook her head. “Interesting, but I doubt it’s related.”

“Something you remembered?” Scrooge guessed. He wanted to be delicate, but she wouldn’t have asked a question like that without a reason.

“I don’t recall more than the name – not yet, anyhow.” She frowned. “It feels important – vitally important, actually – but I can’t exactly say the puzzle’s coming together when I don’t even know where all the pieces are supposed to go.”

Scrooge nodded slowly. “That’s a somewhat more eloquent way of describing it than you used with Dr. Muscovy, as I recall.” Beakley had found dealing with S.H.U.S.H.’s resident psychologist to be frustrating well before her rescue; she’d had little patience for him afterward. 

_Beakley scowled as she mocked the doctor’s assessment of her situation. “‘This soon, that sort of memory loss is normal; it’s your mind protecting itself.’”_

_Scrooge could see Muscovy’s point, but telling Beakley any problem she was dealing with was typical rather than helping her fix it immediately wasn’t likely to get anyone very far. “And what did you tell him?” Her tone was more bitter than usual and that was simply in her retelling of the meeting; he was sure she hadn’t held back._

_She shrugged. “I told him I don’t give a flying fuck what’s normal.”_

_Scrooge put a hand to his chest, pretending to be scandalized, but not before he laughed. “So much for decorum.”_

_“Oh, shove it.” Beakley chuckled, clearly unrepentant. “If he wants me to be honest, that’s exactly what he’s going to get. It’s not as if I’ve had a ‘normal’ day in years.”_

Even after this long, Beakley didn’t seem to regret having given Muscovy a difficult time. He had continued to be certain her memory gap was due to traumatic amnesia and she’d been sure something else was blocking her. Scrooge wasn’t at all surprised to learn she’d been right. “Serves him right for writing me off.” Her amusement faded quickly, however, and was replaced by an introspective look. “Maura, whoever she is, feels like the key to all of this.”

“Was she working with Durand?” Scrooge asked.

“No…I was trying to keep her from him.” She frowned. “She was a child, though whether she’s the same one as Blot’s partner, I can’t be sure. I don’t even know how old she was; his Pepper was only a hatchling at the time.”

Sometimes answers only begat more questions. Scrooge gave her a sympathetic look. “Not to sound like your favorite psychologist, but is it possible that your mind is only processing what it can handle at once?”

Beakley shot him a withering glare, which was oddly reassuring; if Scrooge’s tease got a rise out of her, then she was doing reasonably well despite her unease. “You’re no help. But…yes, Blot did say something similar.”

“Well, there you go.” Scrooge smiled, then nodded to the tea set. “Care for a cup?”

Beakley snorted. “Absolutely not. You may enjoy your savings, but I prefer a _proper_ cup of tea – or at the very least, something a little stronger than hot water with the vague memory of tea leaves.” She did favor him with a smile, though, so quick he almost missed it. “Thank you, though.”

Scrooge knew she wasn’t talking about the offer of tea. “Anytime, Bentina.”

* * *

  
Unfortunately, Blot hadn’t been able to locate enough information on his end to either confirm or rule out “Maura” and Pepper having been the same child. The only infants F.O.W.L. had any record of were its foundlings and none of them happened to be named Maura. Of course, if Pepper’s name _had_ been Maura, the F.O.W.L. agents who found her wouldn’t have necessarily known that, which still left them with precious few conclusions.

Beakley growled in frustration. Other things had come back to her, certainly, but then she kept encountering different mental blocks. It wasn’t the blank _nothing_ of before, but she wasn’t sure she preferred the hazy sense of something that was just beyond her reach. “Everything related to her…why? Is it too soon or are those memories actually lost?” She wasn’t ready to accept the latter.

Blot shrugged apologetically. “I hate to say it, but that may be _actual_ traumatic amnesia coming into play.”

She scoffed at him. “You’re telling me I remember falling through a plate glass window, being stabbed by my former paramour, and the initial stages of severe hypothermia, but a _child_ is too traumatic?”

“I never said the mind’s inner workings were logical,” Blot pointed out. “You’re obviously distressed about the girl’s fate. You had a young daughter at the time, didn’t you?”

“Yes…Eliza was nine.” Beakley said cautiously. She didn’t want to reveal anything that could be used against her, but Eliza’s birth was a matter of public record; Blot could have obtained that information on his own. “Are you suggesting Maura might have been closer to her age?”

“I’m not suggesting anything,” Blot replied, “but perhaps the trauma has more to do with _your_ child than _that_ child.”

Beakley shook her head. “I don’t see how. Eliza was safe, thousands of miles away.” She did recall that being one of her few comforts in the lowest moments, when she felt entirely alone and…something else, infuriatingly unclear.

“Yes, but as I said, you’re expecting memory and emotion to work logically,” Blot observed. “You loved your daughter, obviously. Would it be fair to assume that getting home to her fueled your determination to survive?”

“It would,” Beakley allowed. F.O.W.L. had taken Phillip from them; she had done everything in her power to be sure they wouldn’t leave Eliza alone in the world. And then they’d orphaned her granddaughter. Her rage, pain, and mistrust warred within her and the only thing that kept her from finding this treaty with Blot entirely distasteful was the knowledge that he’d united with them in the service of avenging his own family. “She was my world.”

“As she should have been.” She couldn’t see him smiling, but Beakley would have been willing to bet from his tone he was. It put her more at ease. “I had two girls - Brigita and Galina. They were _my_ world.” 

Beakley nodded slowly, at a loss for words at first. She hadn’t expected him to share that, but if he was trying to relate to her as a grieving parent, it was working. “We aren’t meant to outlive them.”

“Certainly not,” Blot agreed. “But everything I do, in its own way, is for them – and my wife, of course, but my point is, even things you don’t think are connected to your Eliza might be in your mind. Every day you mourn her is another day you keep a spark of her in your heart. Do you feel as though you failed to protect her?”

“Of course I do!” Beakley snapped, just barely keeping the anguish out of her tone. She knew he wasn’t trying to hurt her, but damned if she didn’t feel like he was driving a knife into her heart.

Blot cocked his head at her, something in him softening. Did he sense he’d gone too far? He took Beakley’s hand, surprising her. “As do I, with my girls. It’s a burden I’ll bear as long as I carry on in this world without them. But you have to consider that if you feel you failed Maura, whoever she might be, that your feelings about Eliza may be intertwined. Accepting that may be the only way to unravel this mystery.”

“For you?” she asked, desperately trying to regain her emotional footing.

“For _you_.” Blot sighed. “I have my own reasons for wanting answers, yes, but the Oath of Atlan commands me to finish what I started when it comes to unlocking memories. For as long as it takes you to feel the process is complete, I am honor-bound to do what I can to guide you.”

Beakley blinked; she hadn’t realized it was that sacred to him. It put the lengths he was willing to go to for his partner in an entirely new perspective. “Thank you.” It didn’t feel like enough, but what more could she say?

Blot inclined his head. “You’re welcome.” His eyes narrowed after a moment, a touch of humor creeping into his tone. “Please don’t mistake this as an offer of friendship.”

Beakley laughed. “I wouldn’t dream of it."

* * *


	4. Chapter 4

* * *

  
Blood…there was so much blood, and all of it was hers. At a glance, it seemed like a dangerous amount; it certainly felt like that as her vision began to blur…

Beakley startled awake, relieved to find herself in the familiar surroundings of her bedroom. Nightmares were nothing new for her – and, frankly, she’d expected them in the wake of the memories she’d recovered. And this hadn’t even been a new revelation. She’d lost all sense of time while being held captive, but Beakley was sure that episode of nearly bleeding out had been close to her eventual escape. She remembered counting on Alain and his minions assuming her frailty would stop her, but Beakley had never allowed injury or illness to slow her down, even when she probably should have.

Sitting up, she glanced at the clock. There was time to go back to sleep if she wanted to, but she doubted it would be restful. She rose, moving to the vanity, and took a long look at herself in the mirror. It had been a long time since she felt this old. Beakley knew damned well she wasn’t a young woman anymore, but she refused to let her age get the better of her. In these quiet moments, though, when emotional exhaustion set in, she certainly felt the years creeping up on her. Some days, it felt as if each grey hair had had a name or place etched into it, reminding her of the toll the life she’d chosen had taken on her.

Beakley grabbed her robe, wrapping it around herself as she headed for the kitchen. She desperately needed a cup of tea, especially if she was going to face the day with her usual poise. To her surprise, Lena was sitting at the kitchen table, playing a game on her phone. “Oh. Hello.” Lena’s presence itself wasn’t entirely shocking, but Beakley hadn’t expected her to be awake this early.

Lena waved, then frowned before her beak curved into a teasing smile. “What, you find Duckburg’s favorite bad influence in your kitchen at three am and you’re not the least bit concerned about that?”

Beakley shrugged. “Considering that I was the one who suggested the last-minute sleepover to Webby, not particularly.” She’d thought it might give Webby a healthy distraction; she didn’t need her granddaughter worrying about her any more than she already had in the past couple of days. “I didn’t expect you’d be awake, though.”

Lena set her phone on the table, shrugging in return. “Since that whole sorceress transformation thing, I don’t seem to need as much sleep anymore. I didn’t want to wake Vi and Webby, so I came here.” She chuckled sarcastically. “It is kind of new to be fueled by magic instead of spite these days.”

Beakley couldn’t help but laugh; she’d been fueled by nothing but spite more than once in her life. It might not have been ideal, but it was definitely relatable. “I’m sure you’ll adjust.”

Lena was quiet for a long moment, staring at her hands before she looked back at Beakley. “Not that I want to ruin this lovely moment, but…rumor has it you’ve been meeting with Phantom Blot?”

Given that Lena had a very legitimate reason to be concerned about him, Beakley didn’t want to ignore the girl’s fears. At the same time, however, now that she had a better understanding of Blot, she could hopefully offer some reassurance. “I understand why you’d find that concerning, but one of my conditions in our treaty was that he would leave you alone.” Blot had been reluctant to agree to that one at first, but Beakley had assured him that if Lena posed any threat, she wouldn’t have allowed the girl around Webby. He’d seemed to accept that, at least for now. 

Lena blinked in surprise. “Really?”

“Yes, really.” Beakley nodded. “You’re no threat to his quest to avenge his family – and I’m sure that you don’t particularly care what he does with Magica once he catches up to her.”

“Fair enough.” Lena chuckled. “I don’t know…I might even help him.”

Given what Lena had endured from Magica, Beakley didn’t blame her. “I don’t doubt it.” 

“What, no fancy speech about taking the moral high ground?” Lena teased.

“No.” Beakley shook her head. “Revenge may not be noble, but sometimes it’s necessary.”

Lena grinned. “When did _you_ become the cool adult around here?”

As much as she hadn’t expected it, Beakley’s encounter with Lena was at least helping to raise her spirits. “Long before you were created.” She moved to the pantry, gathering the ingredients for pancakes. As long as Lena was awake, she might as well feed her. “Any objections to an early breakfast?”

Lena shrugged. “I could eat.” She watched Beakley for a moment before finally asking, “Am I allowed to ask what the whole thing with Blot’s about?”

“He has a new partner and he’s trying to help her find out where she came from,” Beakley replied. “Considering the poor girl was raised by F.O.W.L., I didn’t see the danger in helping.”

“Oh, okay.” That seemed to address Lena’s curiosity, as she picked up her phone, returning to her game. 

Beakley smiled as she took a bowl from the cabinet, cracking an egg into the flour as she had countless times before. This time, however, something about that distinctive cracking sound triggered a wave of emotion and she was left gripping the counter until it passed, her breath coming in gasps.

Lena jumped up from the table, moving quickly to her side. “Holy shit, are you okay?”

Beakley didn’t bother to call her on the language, forcing a smile as she recovered. “Yes, dear…thank you.” She took a deep breath, steadying herself. “I’m fine.”

“Frustrated, Irritated, Neurotic, and Enraged?” Lena asked, snorting. “Takes one to know one.”

Beakley supposed it was harder to hide her trauma reaction from someone who was, unfortunately, all too familiar with them. “Fair enough. But, really, I’ll be all right.”

Lena looked dubious, but she nodded. “Okay.” She grabbed a spoon, beginning to stir the batter. “I’ve got it from here. I know a really cool recipe.”

As much as she wanted to insist that she could finish something as simple as pancakes, Beakley knew Lena was doing what she could to help. “Something your fathers taught you?” she guessed, letting the girl take over.

“Nope.” Lena sat the bowl and spoon down after a few seconds, snapping her finger at it and then waving in the direction of the pan. The batter followed obediently. “I call it ‘don’t work harder, work smarter.’ Now, do you have any blueberry syrup?”

* * *

  
As pleasant as breakfast with Lena had been, Beakley still found herself reeling; after dropping Scrooge’s morning tea off, she retreated to her bedroom. Lena had made more than enough pancakes to have breakfast ready for the other children, granting Beakley a brief reprieve before she had to address her other duties. She sank onto her bed, rubbing her temples; she was getting a headache…just like she had in Odesa before Alain had captured her. She’d been getting them frequently that week, which had her concerned…she hadn’t really had a problem with frequent headaches since…

Since _what_?

…since she’d been carrying Eliza. It seemed to be such a strange thing to forget, but it came to her with sudden clarity; that had been the first sign she was expecting. The morning sickness had been blessedly mild, but those headaches…

It wasn’t the revelation she’d been anticipating, but an onslaught of sudden memories hit her as quickly as it had when Blot had first unlocked them. That was why Alain kept her alive; she’d been carrying his child. A child he wanted to train to succeed him in his work at F.O.W.L. The pregnancy had been unintentional, but he’d intended to use the child as the ultimate weapon against S.H.U.S.H., something Beakley absolutely couldn’t allow…

Anything she'd been intending to do was forgotten as she began to cry, wrapping her arms around herself as the memories kept falling into place. Everything that had seemed so hazy, all those walls she kept hitting; it was _her_ , it was Maura, her little girl… Her conscious mind had kept trying to block it, the one failure she couldn’t accept…

_Alain was coming; Beakley could hear his footsteps down the hall. He wouldn’t let either of them go without a fight, and she couldn’t risk Maura getting hurt. A quick glance around the lab she’d ducked into revealed a pile of boxes, no doubt waiting for some janitor to come collect them. It wasn’t ideal, but it would have to do for now. Beakley grabbed the fire blanket from the wall, slipping Maura out of her jacket and wrapping the sleeping newborn in it. She kissed the duckling’s forehead before tucking her in the box and sliding it under a console. “I’ll be back for you, poppet.”_

She’d made it back after the fight, barely on her feet but unwilling to leave the facility without Maura. But the box was gone; the security tape showed one of Alain’s lackeys leaving the room with it… Beakley had followed, but the blood she was losing from the knife wound in her shoulder was beginning to take its toll, along with her other injuries and the December cold…the wind chill in particular was bitter… Someone had gotten the drop on her, hitting her with that damned auto-injector she’d come to despise so much… She’d stumbled through the streets, knowing if she got to the safe house, she could at least bring the wrath of S.H.U.S.H. down on the facility, get her daughter back…

Except she’d collapsed on the doorstep and when she’d regained consciousness, she couldn’t remember anything. After so long, having her theory confirmed – that the last injection contained a different sedative than she’d been used to, one with a memory-blocking effect – should have felt like a vindication. It did, in a way, but she could take no joy in it, not knowing what she’d lost.

At some point, Scrooge had come into her room; she didn’t notice until she felt his arm around her shoulders, making the same awkward but sympathetic noises he did when he’d tried to soothe his young niece and nephew when they cried. His brand of comfort could be inelegant, but he was doing his best. “What’s wrong?”

He could have been trying to pat her back with a broom and the compassion would have made her cry harder at this point. Her heart hadn’t been this broken since she’d gotten the call from Ludwig that Eliza was gone. Even the warm, tender memories she was starting to regain of those precious few moments she’d had with her younger daughter only made the loss feel that much more real. “Maura…”

Scrooge frowned. “Oh, stars…what happened to her?”

“I don’t know.” Beakley shook her head, feeling utterly desolate. Knowing F.O.W.L. had her was bad enough; now all she could do was pray she _was_ Blot’s Pepper and that she’d come through her experience mostly all right. “But she was my little girl.”

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is shorter than I'd thought it would be, because my dramatic-ass brain keeps picturing cutting to commercial off Scrooge's expression after that last line... #sorrynotsorry Fortunately, the next one is definitely coming soon!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end of DuckTales 2017 creeps up on us :( ...and even if it blows my stories out of the water, I don't care. That having been said, it'll be interesting to see if I can finish this story in 10 days... (Spoiler alert: probably not.) The good news is, even if my stuff becomes very firmly AU, the muse is gonna do what it's gonna do, so I'm gonna get this finished! Thanks so much for all the support; it makes me smile in the midst of a lot of chaos that's going on in the real world.

* * *

_July (?) 1991_

Was this what rock bottom felt like?

Beakley had never been one to give up and give in, but the past two months (at least, she thought it had been roughly two months; she couldn’t be sure) had been taking their toll. Every day felt like walking a tightrope, with despair and hope on either side. Some days, it was easier to dismount into “hope” than others. This was not one of those days.

The room was mostly featureless, which added to her disorientation even when she wasn’t drugged. She’d taken in enough of her surroundings (and overheard conversations, when Alain’s minions thought she was either asleep or unconscious) to realize it was a cement building and she was several stories underground. Which meant there was no way the distress signal embedded in her back molar would have been received. The technology was decades old, but as long as there were field agents still outfitted with them, Ludwig kept the receiver active…unfortunately, the signal wouldn’t be strong enough to overcome this level of resistance. 

Her children – so funny to think of that plurally now – were all that kept her going on bad days, like this one. Eliza would be worried, of course, but she was safe. And as long as Beakley could keep her younger child safe until they could both escape… That was her primary goal. She still had time before the developing egg would significantly impede her movement; if there hadn’t been an escape opportunity by then, she’d have to wait until the little one hatched. It was too dangerous to try to break out and then be on the run with an unhatched egg; they were too fragile. But there was no way she’d let Alain have this baby. He’d already gloated – at length – about his plans to raise his successor so that they could eventually rule F.O.W.L. and the world together. Beakley pretended to ignore him, knowing he wanted her to react and refusing to give him the satisfaction, but she mentally noted every word in case she needed to use it against him later.

The universe worked in bizarre and occasionally twisted ways. Just as she’d begun to consider having a second child, Phillip had been killed and she thought that was the end of that. Then, when it had been the last thing on her mind, she was expecting again. If she’d at all suspected that “Lucien” wasn’t who he appeared to be, she might have taken more precautions, but…perhaps fate had arranged things this way to give her a reason to keep fighting when everything she’d been enduring felt like too much.

The physical torture had stopped once Alain realized she was carrying his child, but it had been a lot easier to cope with than the emotional games he played with her. The only feelings left she had for him were the bitterness and hatred that coursed through her veins every time she saw or thought of him, but he didn’t need her love to manipulate her emotions. Her child (children, now) had always been both her greatest strength and biggest weakness. As far as Beakley was concerned, Alain had relinquished all rights to his child through his actions so far, but it didn’t stop his threats from cutting her to the quick.

The door to the room was mostly hidden, but she knew exactly where it was, and she’d come to recognize the faint mechanical hiss before it opened. Alain had two underlings whose names Beakley hadn’t learned yet, but they were identical; she’d dubbed them Thing 1 and Thing 2 after one of Eliza’s favorite books. Whether they were twins or clones, she couldn’t be sure, but the latter certainly wouldn’t have surprised her. F.O.W.L. had never shied away from experimenting with such things without regard for the consequences.

With uniforms as identical as they were, there was no way to tell Thing 1 from Thing 2, at least not that Beakley had yet noticed. Still, she glanced them over each time they approached, looking for _some_ sign of individuality. Gaining the trust of either or both of them wasn’t currently in her escape plan, but if it became necessary, it would be helpful to have information to bargain with. They didn’t stay long this time or even say anything, leaving some food and departing, but she couldn’t recall seeing one without the other, even for simple tasks such as that. Strange…but potentially useful.

Even dwelling on that observation gave her something to think about and distract her from her growing sense of hopelessness. She couldn’t risk letting that feeling take over.

* * *

  
_Present_

While she had managed to put herself back together after her much-needed breakdown earlier, Beakley was still in a bit of a fog. She didn’t realize how late in the morning it had gotten until a soft, halting knock at her door caught her attention. She sighed, forcing a smile onto her face. “Come on in, darling.”

Webby came into the bedroom, shutting the door behind her. “How did you know it was me?”

“You always knock like that.” It was a bit more tentative than usual, which Beakley supposed made sense under the circumstances, but still unmistakable. As much as she didn’t want Webby to worry about her, she did crave the comfort her granddaughter’s very presence provided. 

Webby didn’t hesitate to hurry into Beakley’s open arms, hugging her tightly. “Are you all right, Granny? You weren’t at breakfast, and I haven’t seen you all day!”

“I have a lot on my mind, that’s all,” Beakley assured her, kissing the top of Webby’s head.

“You mean, with the memories the Phantom Blot unlocked?” Webby guessed, looking up at her with undisguised concern.

“Yes.” Beakley had never believed in burdening children with adult problems, but Webby was already aware of the situation. “I’ll be all right, really. I just need to process everything.”

Webby nodded, snuggling closer. “Okay.” After a moment, she looked up again. “Granny?”

Beakley frowned at the anxiety in Webby’s tone. “Yes?”

“We promised no more secrets, right? So if it was something important…you’d tell me?” Webby didn’t pull away, but she was clearly reluctant to even ask, and Beakley hated seeing that in her body language.

Perhaps Beakley’s sense of guilt was even more intense because there _were_ still secrets, things she couldn’t risk Webby knowing, but this wasn’t worth compromising her granddaughter’s trust in her. While she’d hoped to determine Maura’s ultimate fate first, she would have told Webby eventually. “One of the things I’d been blocking out was that I’d had a little girl during the time I was gone.” She wrapped her arm closer around Webby, wanting to soften the shock of the revelation. “Her father was a F.O.W.L. agent, but I didn’t know that when I was dating him.”

Webby gasped. “I have an aunt?”

Beakley nodded. “Yes, but I don’t know what became of her yet. I tried to get her out with me, but I wasn’t able to.” It was even harder to admit her failure to Webby than it had been to Scrooge – or herself.

Webby’s eyes widened, and her expression fell for a moment before she quickly lit back up. “Wait, Blot’s partner…is _Pepper_ my aunt?”

Beakley couldn’t help a tiny smile at Webby’s renewed enthusiasm. “It’s possible.” As much as she wanted it to be true, she couldn’t be sure yet. “But if she isn’t, I promise you, I won’t rest until we find out what _did_ happen to her.”

Webby grinned. “Of course not.” She cuddled against her grandmother’s chest again, resting her head on Beakley’s shoulder. “What’s her name? I mean…even if it’s Pepper, what did you name her?”

“Maura,” Beakley said softly, rubbing Webby’s back. The name was easier to speak aloud now that she was past the initial wave of emotion. Her heart was still raw, but she was finding the stability to move forward and get the rest of the answers she needed. “I named her Maura Jane.”

* * *

  
Blot steepled his fingers together as Beakley explained what she’d remembered, his conviction that Pepper was Beakley’s missing daughter rising. He’d lived with rage as a part of his core since his village had been destroyed, but the anger that was rising on his partner’s behalf took a moment to simmer back down. She could have had the loving family she’d fantasized about. Every child deserved that, of course, but especially a soul like Pepper, who had never let F.O.W.L. crush her spirit entirely. Before he’d learned of the Egghead Program, Blot had often wondered how someone like her had even ended up with F.O.W.L. Now he was sure he knew and the answer left him outraged.

Once they’d been able to confirm a date range, Blot had preemptively searched any video footage he’d been able to uncover from the Moscow base. There was very little left, and even with his technological skills – plus Gandra Dee, who asked very few questions about any assignment he forwarded her – even less had been recoverable. The electromagnetic surge that had been responsible for destroying most of the video files appeared to be coincidence – the backlash of one of Black Heron’s failed experiments – but it certainly complicated matters. The only useful piece of evidence was a few seconds of video they’d obtained from one of the labs, with Beakley tucking a box under one of the consoles; it matched her account of hiding Maura away before confronting her captor.

There were still too many unanswered questions about the entire situation for Blot’s liking, but he wanted to resolve the most critical one first. They could do a DNA test, certainly – and they probably would – but that would take time. “I want you to meet her.”

Beakley blinked at him, looking surprised. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Pepper,” Blot clarified, realizing he’d been getting ahead of himself. He wasn’t used to having to explain his plans to others. “I’ve been keeping her out of the loop about my quest because I didn’t want to get her hopes up until I had something concrete to tell her. I think it’s time I introduced the two of you. Genetic testing can confirm it, but then at least, we’ll know.”

Beakley raised an eyebrow at him. “As much as I’d love to believe I’d meet her and instinctively know she’s my daughter, the real world doesn’t always work that way.”

Blot snorted. He could appreciate her cynicism. “True, but _she_ remembers her mother, and she’s spent her entire life clinging to that.”

Beakley’s eyes widened; she clearly hadn’t been expecting that. “Her imprint memory,” she murmured, her tone thick with emotion. 

“Yes, exactly.” Blot nodded. “Those few seconds have been a comfort her entire life.” He thought it might ease Beakley’s mind somewhat to know that, beyond confirming his conviction that Pepper would recognize her mother, despite the decades that had passed. “I’ll message you later with the time and place.”

Beakley nodded as well. She looked weary but almost hopeful. He knew that feeling, of being afraid to invest in something after so much disappointment. “I want to be as sure as you are about this. I do hope you’re right.”

“So do I, for both your sakes.” Blot sent a quick message to Pepper, asking her to meet him in his office, before turning to leave.

* * *

Pepper was perched on the edge of Blot’s desk when he arrived, one of her usual spots. “Hey, what’s up?”

“Patience, Pepper.” Blot nudged her aside as he claimed his chair, part of their new routine. She cheerfully took her own seat, watching him expectantly. He’d never been one to dance around a situation, delicate or not, so he got straight to the point. “Since you told me about what you remembered of your mother, I’ve been attempting to locate her.”

Pepper gasped. “You found her?”

“I believe I might have,” Blot confirmed, and the absolute adoration that flooded her features warmed even his cold heart. “Before you get too excited, there’s a bit of a complication.”

Pepper frowned, her excitement fading. “She doesn’t want to meet me?” she guessed.

Blot shook his head. “Oh, no. Quite the opposite.” He hated that her first assumption was that she’d be rejected, even though what she’d been told of her origins probably made it a legitimate consideration. “The thing is…” He chuckled darkly as he realized she might not see this as such a bad thing, given her childhood fantasies. “I suppose you were right. Your mother _did_ hide you away, but then you were kidnapped.” That was a bit blunt, even for him, so he followed it up with a gentle tease. “Unfortunately, you don’t appear to have any royal blood.”

A rollercoaster of emotions played out on Pepper’s face. She bounced in place as her eyes filled with tears. “She really _did_ want me?”

“If the woman I found is her, very much so.” Blot moved closer so that he could put a steadying hand on her shoulder. He knew she’d been raised to see S.H.U.S.H. as the enemy, but under the circumstances, he suspected she wouldn’t care much about her mother’s alliance. It would probably rock her world, in time, as she got the full story and absorbed the idea that F.O.W.L. wasn’t as trustworthy as she’d always thought, but she’d have a lot of support waiting for her. “She’s retired from S.H.U.S.H.” He’d long ago disabled the monitoring systems in his office, so he wasn’t worried about who might have been listening in. F.O.W.L. had quickly learned that if they wanted him to work for them, they had to play by his rules. 

“She _what_?” Pepper shrieked, then clamped a hand over her beak, repeating more quietly, “She _what_?”

Given her potential reactions, that one was fairly mild. Blot shrugged. Rather than restate it, he read into her concerns and addressed the underlying matter. “Your father did happen to work for F.O.W.L.” They could deal with the full story later. “As for your mother, she has a lot of animosity toward F.O.W.L., with good reason, but that doesn’t apply to you. She very much wants to meet you.”

Pepper nodded slowly, her eyes still wide and shining. “Was a story of two star-crossed lovers on different sides?”

Blot shook his head. “It most certainly was not.”

“Oh, okay.” Pepper shrugged; she clearly didn’t have much invested in that story. “Are we gonna have to sneak out for a secret rendezvous?”

“Not really, no.” Blot checked his watch; they had time to get food before meeting Beakley. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but F.O.W.L. only monitors my comings and goings if it’s mission related.” He stood, picking her up and tossing her over his shoulder as he headed for the cafeteria, ignoring her giggles once they were in the hall. She seemed to like being transported this way and it helped maintain his cover that he was only putting up with having a partner because he’d been made to. “Let’s get to dinner before all that’s left is cold pizza.”

* * *

  
Nervousness wasn’t a feeling Beakley was accustomed to or cared for, but she couldn’t help but be on edge as Blot approached, his partner at his side. Her hair was blonde, the same shade as Beakley’s had been when she was younger, and though it wasn’t a particularly unique color, Beakley _wanted_ that to be significant. She waved, keeping her external demeanor calm but welcoming. “Hello, Pepper.”

Truth be told, Beakley did want that mystical connection she’d been so sarcastic with Blot about, to see the girl and instantly know this was her daughter. As much as her heart wanted it to be true, she didn’t want to talk herself into anything and close the case too soon.

“Hi.” Pepper waved, looking a little nervous herself. She glanced Beakley over, then frowned. “Would it be super weird if I asked you to…like, I don’t know? Hug me? I was…kind of tiny, and I was looking up?”

Beakley couldn’t help but chuckle. She could see where Blot had noticed similarities between Pepper and Webby. It wasn’t exactly like her to hug someone she’d just met…but, hopefully, they’d find this wasn’t their first meeting. She nodded, reaching for the girl. “Of course, dear.” Even if her Maura hadn’t become “Pepper,” she probably hadn’t gotten nearly enough hugs in her life anyhow. She held Pepper close, her eyes filling with tears as Pepper began to hum a familiar tune. It was the one she’d sung to both her newborn girls as she’d dried the egg goo off their little faces and held them close. “That song…” 

Pepper looked up at her, tears in her own eyes. “You…you sang that to me, didn’t you? I don’t even know all of it, just that part…” She began to hum the song again, looking desperately at Beakley for confirmation.

Beakley nodded, swallowing past the lump in her throat to sing quietly. She was glad they’d chosen to meet at the mansion; it gave them both the security and privacy for this reunion. “So, rest now, my love, while I sing you this lullaby…” She pulled Pepper close, her tears spilling over. “I’m sorry, darling. I’m so, so sorry.”

Pepper held tightly to her for a long moment, finally whispering a name Beakley hadn’t been called since she’d lost Eliza, one she’d always treasured. “Mama…”

* * *


	6. Chapter 6

* * *

_November 1991_

“…and, frankly, I think it’s quite generous of me to allow this level of disrespect to go unchallenged. Which one of us is supposed to be the evil one, here?”

Bradford Buzzard frowned as he walked into Black Heron’s office, listening as she rambled at her video camera. Her frustration was evident, and it didn’t sound like one of her usual Declarations of Harmful Intent (which was not reassuring, despite how much he disliked those). As she wrapped up the video, however, some of his questions answered themselves.

“I’m beginning to think you’re losing your touch, Twenty-Two.” Black Heron cackled, before frowning as she apparently considered another possibility. “Either that or you’re deliberately ignoring me…which, again, is rude. If you’re off playing Mommy again, you could have at least bothered to give me a heads up.”

Bradford bit back a chuckle. He hadn’t seen Heron this desperate for Agent Twenty-Two’s attention since…well, since she’d taken some time off when her daughter had arrived. She was so arrogant, so sure F.O.W.L. didn’t know about her family, but with his access to their files, Bradford had far more information on all of S.H.U.S.H.’s key players than they were likely to ever realize. “You realize she doesn’t _know_ we know about her child, right?” He could have simply waited until she was done and told her to edit that part out, but it was more fun to interrupt.

Heron jumped, turning around. “Bradford! You’re…oh, and you’re on my video now, too.” She scowled. “It’d be so much easier if you didn’t keep up this shadow business. Now I’m going to have to run the tape back and pick it up from…” She groaned. “Oh, I’ll just do it over.” She threw up her arms, fixing him with a glare. “ _You’re_ the one with the inside track. Where _is_ she?”

Bradford shrugged. “I have no idea.” This was a lie, of course; he knew exactly where she was. “The good news is, neither does her own agency. Whatever she’s up to, it doesn’t appear to be on their behalf.”

“Ooh, maybe she’s going rogue.” Heron rubbed her hands together excitedly.

“Doubtful.” Bradford shrugged. “She’ll turn up eventually. In the meantime, wouldn’t it make more sense for you to take advantage of her absence to actually succeed at one of your more cockamamie schemes?” As much as he hated her supervillain antics, allowing her to attempt at least a few of them a year kept her happy and occupied. As long as they didn’t compromise his larger goals, he’d learned to let go a bit rather than waste all his energy reeling her in. If she wanted to declare herself empress of a small village in Lithuania, so be it.

Heron shook her head, scoffing. “You really need to get your own nemesis, Bradford. Then you’ll understand.”

“I have my own nemesis,” he grumbled. “It’s _chaos_ …and it never manages to disappear.”

* * *

  
_Present_

Blot couldn’t help but chuckle as he reviewed one of the video files he’d saved to his tablet when he’d found Black Heron’s series of messages to Beakley. He hadn’t reviewed them before, since there hadn’t been anything to suggest they were related to his search for Pepper’s family, but now that a key piece of the puzzle had fallen into place, he was broadening his parameters. It seemed strange to him that, if F.O.W.L. had Beakley, the key players wouldn’t know anything about it. Heron, distracted by Bradford’s entrance, had left her camera running and never gotten around to deleting the video file. Like all files at the London base, where it had been recorded, it had been dutifully archived. And while he’d stepped outside to give Beakley and Pepper some privacy, Blot took advantage of the opportunity to review that and a few of the other video messages. 

It was always a possibility that Bradford was lying when he said he didn’t know where Beakley was. It wouldn’t have been the first time he’d kept information from his operatives – and given Heron’s obsession, if he did know, it would have made sense not to tell her. But what would F.O.W.L. have been up to – beyond Alain Durand’s personal stake in the matter – that was sensitive enough to deliberately leave one of the organization’s co-founders in the dark?

His phone buzzed with a message from Gandra Dee. _Managed to unscramble a few more seconds of Moscow footage. Nothing exciting. Still want it?_

Blot couldn’t be sure if, like him, Gandra had her own agenda outside F.O.W.L. or if she simply didn’t care enough to ask more questions, but it wasn’t the first time her technological prowess and willingness to aid him had been helpful. _Yes. Thank you._ What didn’t seem exciting to her might be a clue he needed. The most important part of his quest was complete, true – mother and daughter had been reunited – but it wouldn’t be over until he had answers to _all_ the questions his search had generated.

Blot tucked his tablet back under his cloak, away from prying eyes, when he heard footsteps behind him. Alliance or no, this wasn’t the time to start going about trusting everyone. He relaxed when he saw that it was Beakley’s granddaughter. “I thought you’d be with your family.”

“I was,” Webby said, chipper as ever, “but I thought that they maybe needed a few minutes alone and stuff.” 

Blot nodded. “That’s fair.” He glanced at her as she continued to look up at him expectantly. “…so you came to find me?” It had been a long time since he’d dealt directly with a child; he’d mostly tried to avoid them after losing his girls.

“I wanted to say thank you.” Webby smiled, bouncing in that same way he’d come to associate with Pepper. Was it an inherited trait or simply coincidence? “When Granny was telling me about my aunt, I’d never seen her so sad, except when she talks about my mom sometimes. And now you brought her back and everyone’s just so happy!” Her eyes teared up, but her smile remained bright as the sun.

“I did it for Pepper, not her,” Blot insisted, “but you’re welcome.”

Webby continued to grin at him. “I know we haven’t had the greatest times together, because of all the F.O.W.L. stuff, and when you were trying to go after my best friend, before you knew she was good, but I’m starting to think you’re not a bad guy at all.”

Blot groaned. Pepper might have earned the right to tease him about going soft, but that didn’t mean he was going to extend it to her niece. “Well, stop thinking that. I am simply doing what serves my purposes, which I have no intention of making known to you. And I’m still on the fence about your magical friend. I agreed to leave her alone for the sake of our treaty, but I certainly haven’t classified her as ‘good.’”

Webby laughed, which did nothing to convince Blot she was taking him seriously. “Aw, you’re grumpy like Uncle Scrooge.”

Blot glared at her. “I’m not a huge fan of him, either, little duck.”

She cocked her head at the nickname, analyzing him. “Can I ask you a question?”

Blot couldn’t help but appreciate her tenacity and refusal to be fazed by him. “I have a feeling it’ll end up being more than one…but go ahead.”

Webby’s eyes were wide as she quickly took advantage of the opportunity. “Are you really an ageless being, like the legends say?”

Blot wasn’t sure what legends she’d heard, but he couldn’t help but laugh. “No. I’ve lived longer than many, thanks to my travels, but I’m as mortal as you are. The sacred texts of my people say our powers of empathy were granted to our ancestors by the gods…but since then, they were entirely innate. Like any gift, some of us had stronger abilities than others.”

“That’s so cool.” Webby had settled at his feet, watching him with undisguised awe. It was strange to see that in her expression, given their first few encounters, but despite it being a little awkward – as he’d told her, he was no hero – Blot didn’t mind. “Is the cloak part of your religion? Is that why you don’t ever take it off?”

Blot nodded. “Yes. Gloves were always customary among my people, since we were touch empaths, but those of us who took the Oath of Atlan always shielded our faces from outsiders. As there are none of my people left…everyone I encounter is an outsider. And before you ask, yes…I do remove it in the shower.”

That got a laugh out of her. “I don’t want to be rude, but…well, your people, were they a unique race, or…?” She frowned. “It’s okay if you don’t want to say, or if I’m being too nosy, but…”

“No, I can understand your curiosity.” Blot assured her. “To answer your question, if I understand it correctly, I’m a fox. But if you truly want to learn more about my people, I can bring some books I managed to salvage to my next meeting with your grandmother.”

Webby’s eyes went wide, shining with excitement, and she made a small squeaking noise. “That sounds _amazing_. I promise I’ll take good care of them!”

“I wouldn’t have offered if I thought otherwise.” Perhaps it was because she was part of Pepper’s family, but she was growing on him. And he couldn’t deny that it was nice to have someone else who might be able to tell his people’s story someday.

* * *

  
Pepper’s head was spinning as she returned to her bunk. In all honesty, she’d wanted to stay at the mansion, but she wasn’t as naïve as she seemed sometimes; she still had to keep up appearances, and it would be suspicious if she were gone overnight without a mission to account for it. She slid into her bed, curling up with her pillow and sighing.

She’d always known she was different from the other Eggheads. That much had always been obvious. Pepper had never thought herself better than them, but she’d always wondered if knowing that she _had_ been loved and cared for at one point was what made her different. They were all a little cracked in their own ways, some more than others – and she knew that many of them thought her to be stranger than most. She’d always struggled to fit in with her peers. For the most part, they bought F.O.W.L.’s story and accepted their place readily – that they were fighting the chaos in the world, and that the end justified the means. Not unlike F.O.W.L.’s top members, some embraced the “evil” more strongly, while others just did what they were told. Pepper had always tried to analyze the nuances. Saving the world by controlling the uncontrollable seemed noble enough, and as a movie she’d seen once said, being a bad guy didn’t mean one had to be a “bad guy.” Besides, if they’d rescued her and her peers, how bad could they be?

Except she hadn’t been rescued. There were still questions out there, but Pepper knew now that her mother had never meant to leave her behind – and if she hadn’t been drugged and so badly injured, she wouldn’t have. She could have grown up with her sister, gotten to know her niece…been loved the way she’d always fantasized about. And what if her biological father had gotten his way and she’d been raised at his side? Given what little she’d learned of him, Pepper couldn’t say it would have been true love. Conditional, based on what she could provide. She’d always tried to think of herself as someone who was just doing the best they could with what they’d been given. While she was grateful she hadn’t been raised for her father’s brand of evil – in comparison, being an Egghead wasn’t really so bad – Pepper found herself growing increasingly angry at the life that had been stolen from her.

 _Made for each other_ , she’d heard other Eggheads say about her and Phantom Blot. It was true that she was the only one who’d ever volunteered for missions with him; it made her feel useful. Plus, she’d been right about him…he wasn’t really in it for the evil. He wanted justice for his family, and that was something she could understand – now more than ever, really. What she hadn’t told him (but she was sure he’d gathered) was that she didn’t really have many people volunteering to work with her either. She’d always been the last one picked for teams, always left out of conversations and events. Pepper had gotten used to it, but that didn’t mean it didn’t sting – and perhaps that was what made her want to work with Blot even more. They _were_ made for each other, only in a better way than anyone realized. (She didn’t even mind when she heard the wisecracks about her being his pet, the way he picked her up and carried her around. It made her feel secure and wanted, but no one else had to know that.)

Pepper knew she didn’t want to stay with F.O.W.L., not ultimately, but she didn’t know how to get out. Eggheads didn’t exactly turn in two weeks’ notice. She was naturally impulsive, but she knew rushing into that without a plan would be disastrous. She’d need Blot’s help – and probably her family’s. That thought gave her a warm, fuzzy feeling. She had a family now who _did_ want and love her. She always had, really, even if certain circumstances kept them from realizing it. She’d always been Pepper, just Pepper – no last name, with only an identifier number to really tie her to anything. None of the Egghead Program’s graduates existed in the legal system, only F.O.W.L. records. They had a first name and a number, sparse medical and educational records, and vague details on the specifics of their “rescue.” That was it. Most of them weren’t even sure who’d named them, not that it really mattered; most of them didn’t care. But Pepper did, more than ever, because as much as her name had come to suit her, she knew she’d been given another one – something else that had been taken from her.

Tears filled her eyes and Pepper blinked them back, especially as her bunkmate leaned down from the bed above her. “What’s wrong, _Princess_?” Adora had always been a bully, and since Pepper had long since come to regret admitting her private daydreams to her when they’d been children. “Shadow Man doesn’t have time to take you for a walk?”

The conventional advice about not reacting to a bully didn’t help in Adora’s case; she simply got more persistent if she was ignored. Pepper sighed, rolling over to turn away from her. “Allergies.” A lie, but not an outlandish one. Adora would see through it, probably, but it was still better than hinting at what was really going on.

“Lame,” Adora grumbled, before climbing down from the top bunk – intentionally stepping on Pepper’s mattress along the way – and heading out, probably in search of a more interesting victim.

There were a few others in the room, each occupying their own bunks, but they were either sleeping or otherwise distracted, so Pepper was more or less alone. She curled up more tightly with her blanket, reliving the reunion with her mother in her head. Who’d have known that cute little duckling she met on that mission in Scotland would have ended up being her _niece_? Everything had seemed to come together there, hadn’t it? For a mission that would have otherwise been a bit of a mess, it had kicked off a lot of far more important things – bonding with Blot and her first meeting with her family. Her actual _family_ , who wanted to embrace her despite the years that had passed.

Her phone buzzed with a message from Blot, inviting her to join him in his quarters. There was no way Pepper was going to turn that down. There was a lot for them to talk about – and even if they didn’t end up talking much, it would be a welcome refuge in case Adora was still looking for someone to mess with when she came back. She smiled, texting him back. _On my way._

* * *


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're hours away from the finale dropping on DisneyNow...and I managed to sneak this chapter in! *humming* _Why do you write like you're running out of time?_ (Apologies to those who also follow my tumblr, who have had to endure that joke from me twice.)
> 
> Fear not, though - whatever happens in the finale, this story (along with my other DT WIPs) is going to be finished. I live 45 minutes from work and the planned final chapter has played out in my head along the course of that drive repeatedly, so rest assured that this is not the end. And I'm not going anywhere, as long as the muse provides material. 
> 
> That having been said, thank you all so much for your support - and the end of a show is never **the** end; it's just an invitation for us to continue to generate more of our own content!

* * *

It had barely been more than an hour since she’d seen him last, but Pepper still threw herself into Blot’s waiting arms as soon as the door to his quarters closed behind her. It had taken time for him to let her embrace him like this – and longer for him to return the gesture, rather than simply stand there and allow it – and that just made her treasure each hug more.

“Hey.” She didn’t want to ramble at him, at least not right away, but there were so many complicated thoughts tumbling around in her head that it was hard not to. “Thanks. I mean, I would have been fine; I always am…but, y’know, tonight it’s just a lot, and…well, thanks.”

He chuckled as he released her. “I thought you could use a friend tonight. It’s a lot to take in.”

“Yeah…that it is,” Pepper agreed. She sighed. “I always thought of F.O.W.L. as the only family I had, but now that I know they took me away from my real family…it like, what else in my life is going to turn out to be a lie?”

“That’s understandable.” Blot sat on the couch, nodding for Pepper to join him. “It wasn’t my intention to turn your world upside down. I just wanted you to be able to know the truth.”

Pepper felt her heart melt a little more at his words. “Oh, I’d never be upset with you! It’s still better knowing, just…oh, man, still thinking that you’d even do that for me, even want to look into it…I can’t thank you enough. Really, I can’t.”

“You’re very welcome.” Blot picked up a tablet from the end table. “I’ve been working with one of our associates on some legal paperwork; in the event you choose to leave the agency, you’ll need an established identity in the outside world.”

He really did plan for everything. That was something that Pepper had considered, but she’d been so overwhelmed with everything else that it hadn’t seemed like a priority. “Wow…thanks.”

“Again, you’re welcome.” Blot glanced at her. “You’re free to call yourself whatever you want, of course, but whatever name we put on the paperwork will be your legal name. Have you thought about what you might want that to be?”

Pepper nodded. That, she knew. “When I was growing up, my name was the only thing I ever had that felt like mine. I still don’t know who gave it to me, but…I’m Pepper and I like it. But…I think I want to keep it as a nickname.” She’d been given another name, chosen with love, and it was one of the many things she’d lost. Now she had the chance to take it back. “I want to use the name _she_ gave me. My mother.”

Blot nodded. “Maura, then?” Pepper could tell from his tone he was smiling.

“Yes.” It was the first step in taking control of her life and it was as exciting as it was anxiety-provoking. “Maura Jane Beakley.” Saying it out loud sent a thrill through her. 

“Pleasure to meet you.” Blot laughed quietly as he typed in the information, then set the tablet aside again. “In all seriousness, however, how are you feeling?”

“I…don’t know,” Pepper admitted. “I’m so happy, but I’m mad, and a little sad too, and…just a lot of everything.”

“That’s to be expected,” Blot assured her. “You’ve regained a lot in one day – your origins, your family…your name.”

Pepper nodded. Somehow, he always made her feel better when she got lost in her own head. “They say names can be powerful.”

“Oh, they are,” Blot agreed. “If you know someone’s true name, you have power over them. It may not always be a metaphysical power, like in the folk tales, but it still resonates – and like any power, it can be used to wound or heal.”

In her case, Pepper was already finding the power of her name healing. “Yeah, I can see that.” She knew all too well how names given out of cruelty could cut as deep as any knife. Glancing at Blot, she wondered if he even connected with his given name anymore. Maybe he didn’t want to; he’d embraced his menacing persona. Or maybe he kept it carefully guarded for all the reasons he’d just listed. It wasn’t her place to ask, though, so she kept her questions to herself.

“Adric,” he said, after a few moments of silence between them.

Pepper frowned, unsure of what he meant. “I’m sorry?”

“My name is Adric,” he clarified.

Pepper gasped. Had he seen it in her expression? Did he simply know her that well by now? Either way, she was honored that he’d chosen to trust her with that part of himself. Her mind came up blank when she tried to think of a response, so she echoed his earlier wit. “Pleased to meet you.” As her initial surprise wore off, she murmured, “That’s a really nice name.”

“Thank you.” Blot took her hand. “Now you know my true name and I know yours. I pray we’re never in a situation where that knowledge becomes vital, but at least I’ve had the chance to share that with you voluntarily rather than under duress.”

Pepper wasn’t sure at first how it might become vital, but then she thought about the nature of many of their missions. “You mean, with magic stuff?”

“Indeed,” Blot confirmed. “Also, many prophecies are ridiculously specific – and literal. Using the wrong name can spell disaster.”

That made sense, especially given some of the things they’d faced – and might yet. Pepper was quiet for a long moment; for once, she was able to enjoy the comfortable silence between them and she didn’t feel the need to fill it with anxious chatter. She couldn’t help but laugh, though, as one of Blot’s glowing eyes blinked rapidly and then went out entirely. She knew he’d rigged the night vision in his hood to glow through the eyeholes; it wasn’t necessary for him to see, but he thought it added to his intimidating look. It did help Pepper read his expressions, though, so she rather liked it. “Um, your eye is out.”

“So it is,” Blot replied, his tone amused. He moved to grab a toolkit, then returned to the couch. He looked at Pepper for several seconds, then reached up to remove the hood.

If Pepper had been surprised when he’d revealed his name to her, she was absolutely floored at that moment. Her first instinct was to look away, knowing what the vows he’d taken meant to him. “I…I can go, if you need me to.”

“That’s not necessary,” he said gently. 

“But…I thought you never took it off around outsiders.” Did this mean what she thought it might? Pepper kept her eyes averted until she got the confirmation she needed, not wanting to assume and violate the trust they’d built. 

“The more I’ve thought about it, the more I’ve realized that you’re not an outsider to me, not anymore.” Blot put a hand on her shoulder, reassuring and strong. “You haven’t been for a while now.” He paused, as if considering something. “If it makes you uncomfortable, though, I could—”

“No, no.” Pepper shook her head, turning to look at him. “I just…I wanted to make sure you…and…oh…” Her eyes were filling with tears, her heart continuing to melt, especially as she saw his smile for the first time. Was this what belonging felt like? Thanking him didn’t feel like enough, even though she knew what this meant, so she leaned forward and hugged him instead. “You’re the best friend I’ve ever had.”

While she’d learned to find the softness in Blot’s green, glowing eyes, it was entirely different to see it in his natural gaze. “We’re an odd pair, to be sure, but I’m glad we found each other.”

It was almost too much emotion for one day, finding her family and then these special moments with him, but Pepper wouldn’t have traded it for anything. It was like all her dreams coming true at once. She’d always clung to hope, as illogical as it seemed sometimes, and now it was paying off. “Me too.” She’d known he was a fox, but she hadn’t expected him to be so…well, beautiful. His fur was sleek and silver, with his ears laid back against his head. Even with his gaze focused on his hood as he turned to his work, his eyes were warm, but…tired, as if reflecting all he’d seen. Much like her mother’s, though his were brown instead of blue. Happy tears continued to drip down her cheeks, and Pepper wiped them away with the back of her hand.

Any further conversation they might have had was interrupted by an overhead page. _Missing Mysteries Team Charlie, report to the conference room for assignment._

That was them, and as the page repeated, Pepper sighed. “So much for a quiet night in, huh?” Sorting through her feelings would have to wait – but on the bright side, if a Missing Mystery was involved, there was a good chance they’d be running into at least one member of her family. Even if they had to be discreet for now, they’d at least get to see each other.

“Right.” Blot gave her a wry smile before finishing his tweaks to his hood and pulling it back into place. “As Gandra Dee put it once…this is why we can’t have nice things.”

* * *

  
It wasn’t easy, being a criminal mastermind, but Bradford had come to embrace it. For as much as he hated Black Heron’s supervillain antics, she was a valuable asset most of the time. Besides, with as long as they’d worked together, he’d come to find himself perhaps a little fond of her. Bradford supposed the same could be said about many of the other employees they’d had over the years. They had their quirks – some more than others – but if they hadn’t proven useful, he wouldn’t have kept them around. Some, he put up with a few more headaches from because he liked them, as much as he liked anyone. Others…he hadn’t. (Some of those, McDuck, S.H.U.S.H., or one of F.O.W.L.’s other foes had taken care of for him, which was convenient.)

The Ducks had found the Mirror of Moirai, which Bradford hardly minded in this case because he was letting them lead him to it. Some of the Missing Mysteries were too volatile to let them near if he could avoid it, but this one…well, frankly, it could be fun. He didn’t often indulge in such frivolities, but after decades of plotting against those agents of chaos and a few major wins they’d scored recently, perhaps he was due. Black Heron would be proud – if, perhaps, a little miffed at him when she realized she’d been left out of the loop for a portion of his plan. She’d get over it; she always did.

Blot and his intrepid little partner would probably see the fact that they were likely to run into the Duck family on this mission as a coincidence, but few things Bradford ever did were coincidences. He’d chosen them carefully, as he did all things. True, he hadn’t planned on Pepper being the only Egghead willing to work with Phantom Blot, but it had worked in his favor. And while it was obvious Blot was getting fond of Pepper, that didn’t particularly concern Bradford unless either of them stepped out of line. He had plausible deniability when it came to his part in Pepper’s background. And, yes, he knew about their little side mission. He had eyes and ears everywhere – and, honestly, once Blot had looked into anything about Moscow, Bradford had been able to gather what he might be up to. 

Frankly, once the cloning program Durand designed had unexpected (and expensive) complications, Bradford had wanted him to kill Agent Twenty-Two and be done with it. But she’d been expecting…not the clone they wanted, but the child could have been useful. Durand’s ego had gotten in the way, however, which had led to his demise. And with him dead and Beakley having escaped but her survival in doubt, when Durand’s minions “found” a newborn duck in an alley nearby, Bradford hadn’t been stupid. They’d probably panicked and not known what else to do, but they’d never been known for their keen intelligence. After a brief debate, Bradford had decided the infant would be well-suited for the Egghead Program. She’d been provided with a plausible cover story…and, frankly, having Bentina Beakley’s child as a mere pawn in his larger scheme gave him a deep sense of satisfaction. When she, regrettably, survived and took over as S.H.U.S.H.’s director while VonDrake took a sabbatical, it amused him even more. She wasn’t going to be giving him orders for much longer, but he had the ultimate key to controlling her if he ever needed…and she was growing up to be no one special. A henchman, among hundreds of others.

So what if they knew about Pepper’s family of origin? Bradford had been planning to make his own reveal later, but he could work with it happening now, especially since Clan McDuck had found the Mirror of Moirai. Emotional cruelty tended to lean toward the side of supervillainy, true, but after all the crap he’d put up with, he felt entitled to toy with them a little. He walked into the conference room with a dossier on the Mirror of Moirai under his arm and a neutral expression on his face. _Let the games begin._

* * *

  
“The Mirror of Moirai! A mythical artifact lost long ago that has the power to give the beholder glimpses of a life that might have been.” Scrooge was in top form when giving pre-mission briefings – though he probably wouldn’t have called them that. Beakley chuckled to herself; the irony of finding a mirror to a life one might have had just as she’d been dwelling on the same idea wasn’t lost on her. Then, it might not have been coincidence; she’d never been one to chalk things up to that alone. 

Huey took over, just as excited. “Finch’s journal claims that the mirror was created by the three Fates, but it disappeared sometime after the Peloponnesian War. Not even our friends in Ithaquack knew where it was. But, yesterday, a glowing mirror matching the description was unearthed at a dig site on the Argolid Peninsula. Selene informed us as soon as she heard, and now the race is on. We know F.O.W.L. has agents all over the globe, so now it’s up to us to get to the mirror before they do.”

“Ooh, does it work on the power of the mind or is it actually a mirror to alternate realities?” Webby asked, bouncing on her toes.

Huey shrugged. “It’s hard to tell from the information in the journal, but given the nature of some of the other Mysteries we’ve encountered so far, we can’t rule out the idea that it’s accessing other dimensions. That’s why we brought Gosalyn along.”

Gosalyn Waddlemeyer waved at the mention of her name, chuckling softly. “Yeah…with my grandpa still missing, guess I’m the closest thing to an expert on the Solego circuit you’ve got.”

Beakley rather hoped they wouldn’t _need_ Gosalyn’s knowledge of the circuit. Dr. Waddlemeyer had spent his life working to crack Solego’s circuit and if he’d been willing to stop everything once he realized the danger it posed, that should have been enough…but Taurus Bulba had pushed things to the breaking point. Still, whether the mirror had any link to alternate realities or simply drew its power from the user’s mind, it would be much safer in their hands versus F.O.W.L.’s. She suspected Scrooge had invited her on this mission so she wouldn’t be alone in the mansion, given the timing of things, but for once, she had allowed him to be solicitous. After all, if they thought the mirror had the potential to be magical, there was a good chance they’d send the Phantom Blot…and Pepper would be with him. They’d have to maintain their respective covers for now, of course, knowing the higher-ups would be watching, but it would be a chance to see her again – and make sure she was okay, after the revelation that had been dropped on her. Beakley was still dealing with it, herself, but she’d had a little longer to take it in and a lot more experience handling emotional upheaval.

“This is your pilot,” Launchpad announced, in that same purposely calm tone he always used despite the fact that the plane didn’t actually have an overhead speaker. “We’ll be crashing soon.”

“Or not!” Della insisted from beside him.

Gosalyn glanced at Dewey. Her cool teenage façade was firmly in place, but the slightest hint of amusement shone in her eyes. “Are your adventures always like this?”

Dewey nodded enthusiastically. “Oh, yeah. And we haven’t even gotten there yet! This is gonna be great.”

Though their definitions of “great” often differed drastically, Beakley hoped he was right. Despite her fear of the larger fight that was to come with F.O.W.L., enough good things had fallen into place lately that she was inclined to let herself be a little bit optimistic.

* * *

  
Selene was waiting to greet them when they landed on Ithaquack; after exchanging a quick hug with Della, she led them to the mirror. It was giving off a faint blue glow, but other than that, it looked like any other ornate mirror, standing alone with its golden frame.

Huey bounded over to it, Gosalyn following him. While he inspected every corner of it, she stood and regarded the mirror calmly, crossing her arms. Huey looked at her, eyes wide. “Well, do you think it’s connected to Solego?”

“Yes,” Gosalyn said gravely. “Definitely.”

“Really?” Huey asked.

Gosalyn laughed. “Sorry, I’m just messing with you. I have no idea yet. I’m not even sure how the thing works; I literally just looked at it.”

Huey frowned, but as Gosalyn patted him on the shoulder, he relaxed. “Okay, so what do you suggest? Is it safe to activate at all?”

“Do we have any idea how often it was used before it disappeared?” Gosalyn asked. Huey shook his head, glancing at Selene.

Selene shrugged. “The Fates used to use it all the time, but…we’re gods. And they would have controlled any side effects it had on the real world’s fate anyway. It’s kind of their whole thing.”

While she had come to accept the widening of her perspectives that had come along with living in Scrooge McDuck’s world, Beakley still marveled sometimes that the gods of legend were not only real, they were allies. “I don’t suppose there’s any chance they want it back and we can end this whole affair safely?”

Selene shook her head. “Nah. Already asked. Clotho got bored with it before it went missing, Atropos is working with Hades now and doesn’t want to be bothered, and Lachesis said if she wanted it back, she’d just have made a new one.”

 _Gods and their whims,_ Beakley thought with a sigh. “Were they able to tell you if it poses any danger?”

“They didn’t seem to think so…but…like I said, we’re not playing on the same field as mortals.” Selene shrugged again, looking a little sheepish. “No offense.”

“None taken,” Scrooge said dryly. He looked at Gosalyn. “Lass…if it is, by chance, connected to the fabric of our reality, would one use be a danger?”

Gosalyn considered it. “Probably not. And using it’s the only way we’ll probably know.”

Scrooge looked to Huey for confirmation. “Lad?”

Huey nodded. “She’s right. We won’t actually be able to be sure of how it works until we see it work.”

If it had been up to her, Beakley would have decided there was no pressing need to be sure of how it worked, that knowing it was secure was good enough. But she wasn’t a scientist. She’d married one, though, and she knew he wouldn’t have been able to rest until he _knew_. Huey would have been no different – and while Gosalyn had other interests in her life, she looked curious as well. No doubt she was wondering if it might provide an alternative to the Ramrod in getting her grandfather home, and Beakley couldn’t blame the girl for that. She had a feeling that, if once was deemed safe, they’d be using the mirror. Just as she was about to volunteer – better her than placing any of the others in potential danger – a giggle from behind one of the nearby ruins drew her attention.

“That mirror belongs to F.O.W.L.!” Pepper announced, pulling off her sunglasses and tossing them aside as she stepped into the dim light of the cove they stood in.

Selene looked mildly alarmed until she glanced at the others, who weren’t particularly concerned. They’d been expecting F.O.W.L. and it had, fortunately, been this pair. As dangerous as the agency could be, they were also predictable. Beakley felt a presence behind her shoulder and she might have been startled if she hadn’t been waiting for it. “I’d advise you to call for backup,” she warned. It wasn’t as if she could risk looking glad to see them. “You’re significantly outnumbered.”

Blot scoffed. “Given that half of your team consists of literal children, that’s not as big of a threat as you think.”

How were they going to play this? Beakley hadn’t had a good fight in too long; she could spar with Blot if a fight became necessary to keep up appearances. She couldn’t help but glance at Pepper, though, who was clearly trying her best to look tough as she edged closer to the mirror. The Eggheads weren’t renowned for their finesse – and if anyone in the training program had known of Pepper’s true parentage, they were probably wise to keep her from reaching her full potential. “…She really has no concept of stealth, does she?” It was a struggle to keep the fondness out of her tone. 

“None whatsoever,” Blot agreed before feinting a blow, just missing Beakley’s face. 

It was as if he’d read her mind and Beakley wasn’t sure she liked what that suggested about how much they had in common. “Oh, if _that’s_ how you want to do this, bring it on.” She gave Scrooge a significant look before spinning on her heel and returning Blot’s punch. If the others were going to try to use the mirror, at least she could buy them a few minutes to do it.

* * *


End file.
